


Here With Me

by 796116311389



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cussing, First Time, Frottage, Lake swimming, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Naked Sherlock, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Skinny Dipping, Surprise erections, Tenderness, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-27 13:37:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14426541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/796116311389/pseuds/796116311389
Summary: "I can't believe you, Sherlock." He lowers his voice in a weak imitation of the man in question, "'Oh, don't worry John. I've calculated the gas mileage. We don't need to fill up for miles yet! We'll be fine."John and Sherlock's car breaks down in hot weather, conveniently near a lake.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 has the sex. 
> 
> This is born out of the fact that it's 91°F outside and 102°F in my car. 
> 
> I want to go swimming.

"I can't believe you, Sherlock." He lowers his voice in a weak imitation of the man in question, "'Oh, don't worry John. I've calculated the gas mileage. We don't need to fill up for miles yet! We'll be fine." 

John glares at Sherlock in the driver's seat.

Sherlock however is unperturbed. "We ran out of gas. All we do is call for help and we'll be fine." John watches as he pulls out his phone and makes a face. "Oh."

John can feel his blood pressure rising, "Oh? Oh, what?" He asks, his voice dangerously low.

Sherlock gives a toothy smile, "It would seem we have no signal."

John pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, before letting it out slowly. "Are you telling me that we are stuck in the middle of nowhere with a dead car, no way to call for help, and it's bloody 32 outside?" He resumes his glaring at Sherlock and can feel that the heat is already affecting him.

The car is becoming sweltering hot and he's already dressed lightly, for him, in jeans and a white t-shirt.

Sherlock shrugs his shoulders, "Essentially. Though you can't really blame me for the weather. Bit out of my purview." 

He gets out of the car.

 

"Where are you going?"

Sherlock looks at John and points to a glimmer with trees off in the distance. "I'm headed to that lake. It's water and shade. It's 32 and humid. I'm certainly not going to die of heat exhaustion in this rental. Now, come on. Let's go."

John watches Sherlock start to walk away across the field between them and the lake, noticing the sweat that's stained the back of Sherlock's dress shirt. He'd taken his suit coat off that morning, but he was still wearing his suit trousers and long sleeved dress shirt.

He looks at their stuff in the back of the car and then back to Sherlock before deciding, 'Fuck it' and following after Sherlock.

He catches up to Sherlock when he's already halfway to the lake. "So, what's the plan?"

Sherlock gives John a bemused look, "Plan?"

"Yeah, the plan. How are we going to get back to town?"  
Sherlock's lips quirk. "We're going to wait for someone to drive by and if that doesn't happen we'll walk back."

"Wait. Then why are we over here? At this lake?" John stops walking a few feet back from the waters edge but Sherlock walks right up to it.

Sherlock looks over his shoulder and smiles at John while he starts unbuttoning his shirt, "I'm going for a swim. You're free to do what you want, though I at least recommend getting out of the sun." He turns back towards the water and finishes unbuttoning his shirt.

John watches as Sherlock strips himself first of his shirt, his socks and shoes, and then his trousers. When Sherlock's thumbs hook into his black briefs, John gives a strangled shout. Sherlock pauses and turns to face John with a questioning look.

John scrambles to find words and gestures pathetically towards Sherlock's pants. "You're going to swim in the," embarrassingly his voice cracks, he swallows dryly, "in the nude?"

Sherlock strips his pants down and stands completely naked before John, "Of course. I'm not going to wear wet clothes after I get out."

John jumps to turn around and avert his eyes, but not before getting an eyeful of his completely starkers flatmate. He can feel his face burning bright red. "Jesus, Sherlock. Have you no shame?!"

John hears the sound of a splash from behind him as Sherlock gets into the lake.

"Nope." Sherlock says calmly with a plosive 'p'.

John carefully turns back around and watches as Sherlock starts to do short laps in a circle close to where he got in.

Sherlock is all grace and long lines as he slices through the water. John can feel his face heating with a different warmth now and quickly turns his face into a frown. 

"How long are you going to be in there?"

Sherlock stops his laps and treads water, "As long as it takes for you to come in and get me out." He grins cheekily and starts swimming for the other side of the lake.

John shakes his head but strips down to his red boxers and white t-shirt. He toes the water and finds it pleasantly cool. Carefully he wades out into the water. 

It's surprisingly deep. 

John treads water, looking around for sherlock when he pops up next to him and splashes him.

John sputters and wipes the water from his face.  
Sherlock looks pointedly at John's t-shirt, "You got in in your clothes?"

"Yes. Some of us have a little common decency not to flash everyone."

"Hardly everyone, John. In fact, just you."

"Yes. Still. Anyway, let's go. We have at least a six mile walk back to town and I'd rather get back before dark. Also, how are we going to flag down someone else's help if were over here wading about?" John reaches out to grab Sherlock's arm, but Sherlock easily evades his grasp and, instead, swims behind him and splashes water over his head.

"Sherlock! Stop. We should really get going, not playing about."

"I'm not playing John. I was one hundred percent serious when I said I'll get out when you catch me."  
And with that pronouncement Sherlock disappeared under the water again.

John shakes his head and mutters to himself, "You have got to be kidding me?"

The water is completely still and Sherlock still hasn't come back up. John is just starting to get uneasy when suddenly Sherlock grabs his ankle under the water and drags him down, before letting go to pop back up above the water's surface.

Sherlock surfaces next to him. Rather closely; John can feel the water move from Sherlock's treading.

"What was that for?"

Sherlock just smiles and shrugs his shoulders. They tread quietly and John considers how he can get Sherlock; he's a good swimmer, but Sherlock of course is like a fish.

Simply grabbing him won't be enough.

He needs to get him in a hold so he can't squirm away. 

He knows Sherlock will see anything to do with his arms before he's so much as thought it. Plus the drag on the water slows him considerably.

However, the murky water hides his legs and Sherlock is close to him, probably as a taunt. If he moves quickly enough he can probably get his legs locked around Sherlock and from there an octopus hold will keep the git from doing anything.

John's made up his mind and moves before he's barely finished the thought. He strikes with his legs and gets them clamped around Sherlock's waist, his strong thighs gripping Sherlock. Sherlock immediately begins squirming and trying to break John's hold, but John isn't having it and works his arms in to wrap around Sherlock's. 

It works and in moments John is completely wrapped around Sherlock.

All Sherlock can do is kick his legs to keep them afloat.

"Oh, very good John."

John's head rests on Sherlock's shoulder as he tightly grasps the hard toned body beneath him.

Sherlock isn't someone John would necessarily describe as muscular, but his lean frame is dense muscle and strong. John closes his eyes as he remembers the fact that Sherlock is completely naked. 

Which is a mistake because his mind quickly spins scenarios in which he's also naked and certain acts are being performed. His eyes snap open and he takes a careful breath. The water is cool but he's pretty positive he's burning up in embarrassed arousal. He prays to every deity he can think of that he doesn't start getting stiff in his pants.

Which is also a mistake because it makes him acutely aware of the fact that his cock is pressed into the softer flesh of Sherlock's stomach. He's so lost in thought that he startles when Sherlock makes a gentle throat clearing noise.

And that's when he realises Sherlock must have also noticed the subtle implication of their relative positions, because he can feel Sherlock's hard cock pressing gently up against his balls and the bottom of his arse.

The mere thought of Sherlock like that has John rapidly filling out in his pants against Sherlock. He groans at the tight pressure before letting go and swimming away mortified. 

He heads towards shore and climbs out of the water. He turns and sees Sherlock watching him, one arm treading the water, the other moving in a familiar way under the water.

John swallows thickly, his own hard cock giving a throb. 

He turns back around, slips on his jeans and shoes and uncomfortably heads back to the car.

He can't process this right now.


	2. Chapter 2

John pushes open the door to their room in the bed and breakfast. The room is dark and quiet, but John knows Sherlock is inside. He can feel it.

He enters the room and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. He steps forward past the bathroom and sees Sherlock in the bed, sleeping.

John pauses and waits a moment but Sherlock doesn't stir. He turns around and heads into the bathroom.

The bathroom light is harsh after the darkness of the room. John slips off his watch and notes it's nearly gone midnight. He's been gone hours.

After he'd stormed away from the lake, he grabbed his bag from the car and started heading in the direction of the little town they were going to.

Sherlock had caught up with him, fully dressed and carrying his own bag not too much longer. John had walked ahead of Sherlock and Sherlock, uncharacteristically, had walked silently behind him.

They were picked up about two miles out of town and dropped of at the bed and breakfast they were staying at. They were over an hour late for their check in and consequently their twin room had been given up. The only room left was a double. At that John had dropped his bag, thrown his hands up and stormed off, leaving Sherlock to sort everything out.

John leans forward onto the bathroom sink and looks at himself in the mirror. The lighting does him no favours. He looks washed out and tired, the bags beneath his eyes pronounced and dark.

He looks old. Too old for this. For self discovery and world shattering revelations.

He hangs his head and takes a deep breath.

He needs sleep. He's exhausted.

John strips down to his boxers and nothing else. It's still warm and he's not going to change into pyjamas. He splashes water on his face and brushes his teeth.

Quietly, he turns off the light, leaves the bathroom, and slips into the bed with Sherlock who is still sleeping soundly.

He rolls onto his side facing Sherlock. There's a bit of moonlight coming through the open curtains of the window behind John and it lights up Sherlock enough for John to make out the details of his face.

He's always loved catching Sherlock asleep. His face smoothes out and he seems impossibly young and soft to John. So very human.

It's humbling too. Sherlock doesn't trust easily and yet he's never really had a problem falling asleep near John. It makes John feel close to Sherlock in a way he can't explain.

Here in this moment, however, he's anything but close. For all that they are separated by mere centimetres, John feels like they are separated by kilometres and kilometres of distance. He's never felt further.

His world is teetering on an edge and he feels like one wrong step will lead to the end of both of them.

And he can't have that.

He loves Sherlock. In every sense of the word.

He coughs gently, his throat suddenly tight because he's scared. He's so scared and it's ridiculous because it's just Sherlock.

But it's also _just Sherlock_.

Sherlock stirs across from him. John's gentle cough likely disturbing his sleep.

John holds his breath and briefly debates pretending to sleep, but it would be futile to pretend as such; Sherlock would see right through it. And now it's too late for anything like that because Sherlock is awake and looking into John's face.

"Hello John."

"Hello Sherlock."

That's all that's said for a few minutes. They lie there breathing each other's air and don't say anything else. John can feel the tension between them, but he's panicking and his throat won't work and he can't form any other words.

Sherlock breaks the silence with a quiet whisper.

"I'm sorry about this afternoon."

Of all the things he was ready for Sherlock to say, honestly, 'sorry' wasn't one of them. John needs some clarification though.

"Sorry for what exactly?"

Sherlock responds facetiously, "For wanking to the feel of your cock pressed against me. But I couldn't have got dressed properly like that. Would've ruined the line of my trousers."

John actually starts laughing and Sherlock joins him carefully. After John settles down he feels a lot calmer.

Sherlock quirks a smile, then looks away and bites his lip. His left hand is settled on the mattress between them and his finger picks at the mattress. "Seriously, though, John. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It wasn't my intention for you to feel me in such a state. It doesn't have to mean anything. Just...bodies."

Sherlock looks at John from under his eyelashes, his eyes pleading. John realises Sherlock's just as scared as he is. He, too, doesn't want their relationship to sour.

Doesn't want to lose John.

John decides if there ever was a moment to be courageous it would be this one.

He reaches up with his right hand and carefully stops Sherlock's picking. He then turns Sherlock's hand and laces their fingers together.

"The only thing that made me uncomfortable today was the heat," John jokes lamely before continuing, "Can I ask you a question?"

Sherlock, who has been staring stunned at their laced hands, redirects his gaze to John and nods.

"You said it doesn't have to mean anything, but what if...what if we wanted it to? To mean something?"

John holds his breath as Sherlock's mouth gently falls open in shock and he whispers, "Is that what you want?"

"Yes. And I mean more than just, uh, sex, I mean- we would have sex, but not just- we could be- oh God, I can't think of a better word- um, boyfriends?" John doesn't mean for it be a question, but he's suddenly winded by the end of his sentence and it comes out that way.

Sherlock smiles at John's clumsy stumbling over what he wants to say. "Us, John. Us is the better word. We could be us, the best of us, together."

John's face relaxes and he looks at Sherlock with tender affection. "Yeah. Us, together."

Sherlock smiles, one of his genuine ones reserved just for John.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you now?"

"Oh God yes."

Sherlock scoots across the mattress to place a chaste kiss on John's lips.

John sighs against Sherlock's lips and returns the kiss. He nips at Sherlock's lower lip and pulls it in between his own lips sucking it plump and full.

Sherlock responds in kind and they kiss each other like this for a few minutes, their bodies slowly moving closer together.

Sherlock runs his tongue across John's upper lip and John readily opens his mouth. The touch of their tongues is electric.

John can hear himself breathing hard, panting little moans. He realises he's flush against Sherlock and Sherlock has his arm around him.

He also realises he's incredibly warm and that his cock is getting harder and harder the longer they kiss. He's becoming so aroused it hurts.

He breaks away and breathes deep a moment. He looks into Sherlock's eyes, sees them half-lidded and pooled with desire.

God, Sherlock looks wrecked and he's positive he must look the same, if not more so.

John can feel Sherlock slowly, gently, rhythmically pressing his cock into his thigh.

John closes his eyes. Sherlock wants this as much as he does.

He opens his eyes and caresses Sherlock's face with his hand. "How far do you want this to go tonight? Right now?"

Sherlock looks into John's eyes and makes a broken sound before responding, "As far as you'll let me John, please."

John leans in and pours all of his love into a kiss. "I've never done this before. You lead and I'll follow. Take me apart, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock groans and kisses John again while pressing him to lie on his back. "Oh God, John. You brilliant man."

Sherlock kisses John's mouth and then starts moving his mouth to kiss John's neck. He moves above John at the same time.

"John. Oh God, John. I want you to fuck me. I want to ride you. But that's probably too much for you right now, so we're going to pretend." Sherlock seats his plush arse onto John's throbbing cock. John groans at the pressure, between his constricting underwear, the friction of Sherlock on him and the suggestion of their positions, he feels suddenly very close to coming. "We're going to pretend that you're inside me right now. I want you to imagine how tight and hot I feel inside. I'll be slick with lube. My body grasping at you every time I lift up and you pull out. The rhythm as I drop back down faster and faster."

John closes his eyes and groans at the sight in his mind's eye. The fantasy spinning easily.

He groans at the feeling of Sherlock who is rubbing himself obscenely in all the right ways against John's cock.

He feels Sherlock sit up and John opens his eyes. He's rewarded with the sight of Sherlock who has slipped his cock free of his pyjamas and is pulling himself off while pretending to ride John. He's panting harshly now, they both are. It's easily becoming the hottest experience John has ever had.

Sherlock leans forward again and resumes kissing John, deconstructing every barrier John has ever had.

"Yes, John. Please, more." Sherlock moans into the kiss. "Please. I won't come until you do."

John can feel the quivering tension of Sherlock's body. He reaches down and rubs his hand against the head of Sherlock's cock.

Sherlock keens.

It's powerful and heady knowing that he's unravelling Sherlock and it's that thought that pushes him over the edge, has him thrusting his hips up into Sherlock's bottom, and coming in his pants. He can feel his whole body seize and his mouth opens and he lets out a cry, his eyes shut tight as he sees stars.

Then he hears Sherlock cry out and he opens his eyes in time to see Sherlock throw his head back, the tendons in his neck taut with a choked off yell as his orgasm is pulled from him in a hot, sticky mess across John's belly and chest.

Sherlock slumps forward and drapes his body over John's. John hugs Sherlock in a loose embrace.

"Thank you, John."

"Pretty sure that's my line."

"All the same."

John chuckles and kisses the side of Sherlock's head. "Let's get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning."

Sherlock snuggles into John, "Mmm yes, over breakfast."

"Of course." John whispers.

They fall asleep entwined, sated and fulfilled, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...like go easy on me. I've never written canoodling on my own before and I'm sorry if it's awkward or weird. I tried!


End file.
